


Shattered Colours

by TistheFairy13



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Dirty Talk, Explicit Consent, Ftm Virgil, Human AU, M/M, Oral Sex, Sort of...not really., Trans Male Character, Trans Virgil, Trans male dressing in a feminine way, because clothes don't have a gender tbh, minor Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 12:30:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14057040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TistheFairy13/pseuds/TistheFairy13
Summary: Virgil doesn’t know how it happened, or even why, or well...he does, but with the way Logan is currently sucking out his soul through his tongue, it’s completely plausible that he had temporarily forgotten about it. Pinned to the door by his boyfriend’s body, his mostly bare thighs wrapped around the fold of a tucked in shirt, his fingers buried in soft, brown hair, Virgil can almost recollect fragments of the disaster of an afternoon that had led to this moment- the soft hands of Patton calming him down, the offended scoff of Roman behind him, and the intense, deadly gaze of Logan’s eyes and the sharp tone in Logan’s voice.--In which Virgil wears a skirt, is called out for it, gets turned on by Logan aggressively educating the jerk, defends himself, and is taken home so Logan can show him just how proud of him he is.





	Shattered Colours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoselineSmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoselineSmith/gifts).



> Hey! This is my first actual post on archive, so I'm new to this. I tend to write more original works than fanfiction, so I never post anything. But I am all for trying something new, and I absolutely love the Sanders' Sides so...here goes.
> 
> This was written for a friend who got a request for a trans Virgil and Logan fic, so I volunteered to write it. Hope they like it!
> 
> This was inspired by a conversation that I had with a friend about people within the trans community who enforce gender stereotypes and roles onto trans people. For example, saying that a trans male can't present in a feminine way because they have to be manly. While trans men presenting masculine is 100% valid and great, I wanted to kind of present another perspective. Men can wear skirts. That extends to trans men as well.

Virgil doesn’t know how it happened, or even why, or well...he does, but with the way Logan is currently sucking out his soul through his tongue, it’s completely plausible that he had temporarily forgotten about it. Pinned to the door by his boyfriend’s body, his mostly bare thighs wrapped around the fold of a tucked in shirt, his fingers buried in soft, brown hair, Virgil can almost recollect fragments of the disaster of an afternoon that had led to this moment- the soft hands of Patton calming him down, the offended scoff of Roman behind him, and the intense, deadly gaze of Logan’s eyes and the sharp tone in Logan’s voice. 

Drama isn’t a new thing for the weekly Saturday Pride center potlucks- good for those LGBTQ+ youth who have nowhere to go to get a free meal at least once a week, a situation Virgil had once been all too familiar with before moving in with Logan, and also a nice chance to talk about queer issues, and meeting fellow queer people. Drama is normal, but usually it tended to stray towards things like which Queer Eye character is the favourite, and “Can you believe how transphobic RuPaul is being?” It’s never been incredibly personal. It’s never been directed at Virgil. Until now. 

And all because he wore a skirt. 

The apparently offensive object was a rarity of itself. After transitioning, Virgil never strayed far from his practically trademarked dark jeans, loose t-shirt and oversized hoodie, a habitual kind of attire he’d picked up to cover curves and hide the fact that he wasn’t wearing a bra- not that it always worked. That hadn’t changed, even after surgery. So this deviance from ‘Hot Topic, Myspace dweller circa 2008’ aesthetic is new, thanks to a unique happenstance surge of confidence, Logan’s love of his thighs, and a very Roman Prince inspired trend of fashionable rebellion. And Virgil had felt confident, even pretty, something he’d never expected to be comfortable feeling. And then Jack Fibbs opened his slimy, snake like mouth and ruined everything. 

“Are you sure you should be wearing that?” He had sneered, as he stared down at Virgil with his beady, judgemental black eyes, his gaze roaming over the flow of the skirt along Virgil’s thighs and the comforting hand Logan had put there. 

“Are you sure you should be wearing that?” Virgil had snarked back, though his heart was rattling in his ribs at the jibe. “Or have you finally decided to help with cleaning up this weekend? On dish duty, huh?” 

Jack had scowled, narrowing his eyes at Virgil, and had stalked off. Virgil had hoped that it would be the end of that- a hopeless venture, he knew, because Jack was all kinds of low and sneaky, including sitting just far enough away from Virgil so that he can hear him as he talked some poor bastard’s ear off about his issues with Virgil’s skirt. 

“Don’t you think it’s super disrespectful to trans rights?” 

“So many trans men, like me, have to fight to be recognized as men, and it’s like he’s betraying his own people by wearing it.” 

“It’s offensive to those of us who had to grow up wearing skirts and feeling dysphoric by it.” 

“Does he want to be recognized as a girl?” 

“Or maybe he’s not a real man.” 

Focusing on ignoring each jab at his masculinity, Virgil had nearly jumped at the loud sound of hands meeting wood and the body next to him standing from its place by Virgil’s side. Virgil had looked up just in time to see the tell-tale twitch of Logan’s forearm, sorry for startling his habitually anxious boyfriend, and the hard set, dangerously determined cut of Logan’s jaw before his boyfriend verbally tore academic shreds into the snake across the table. Virgil barely registered Patton’s calming touch, trying to still his trembling, or Roman joining in on the arguing ( “So it’s okay for men like me to wear a skirt, but not him?” -Roman “Stay out of trans issues, cis scum!”- Jack). His gaze, his mind, strayed very little from Logan. He could feel the familiar ‘ringing in the ear, knot in the throat, surfing wave drowning’ feeling start to set in, but at the same time, there was a stirring, tightening in his stomach that wasn’t technically related to anxiety- although the thought of it had often given Virgil a panic or four. The determined look in Logan’s eyes, the strength in his arms and back visible through his polo only because of how tense he was, the effortless stream of history and science backed shade cutting into Jack, had Virgil feeling something not very far from arousal. 

“Logan...” He had rasped suddenly, everyone’s eyes turning to him as he stood up, regardless of Patton’s concerned hands willing him to stay seated. “Let’s go. He’s not worth it.” 

“Not worth it? You’re the worthless one, you backstabbing, girly trans trait-“ Jack couldn’t get the rest of his insult out of mouth after that.

Because it was lopsided. 

Because Virgil had punched him. 

After that had been a blur- Virgil had said some snarky words of his own- something about clothes not having a gender and maybe if he stopped putting his head up his ass as his way of getting some, he would know that- before he was promptly dragged out of the center by a very determined, very wound up version of his boyfriend- leaving the apologies to be made by Roman and Patton.

Which then led them to Virgil’s current situation: being pinned to the door of their apartment with Logan attacking his mouth as if he can swallow whatever other insults Virgil may have had for the snake.

“You were so hot...” Logan breaths into Virgil’s neck, teeth creating small, red marks into the pale skin as he presses moon-shapes into Virgil’s exposed thighs, rocking their hips together. “So manly, punching that slimy, no-good serpent in his venomous oral cavity.” He bites between kisses. Virgil huffs a laugh, fingers digging into the strands of hair surrounding them, his head tilting back to give Logan more room to mark. He’s never seen this side of Logan. He is well aware of how passionate his boyfriend can be, how driven and how intense he can get. But that has always only ever applied to learning, or defending him and their friends. It’s never really applied to sex before. Until now, Logan has always treated Virgil like a glass ornament painted from the inside - careful not to break him and let the colours he hides out before he’s ready to free them. But with Logan’s hands on his thighs and lips on his jaw, Virgil may just be ready to shatter. 

“You’re one to...to talk, Lo. I thought his brain was going to...explode just from the mass of knowledge you’d forced into his tiny...tiny brain.” Virgil jokes, tightening his hold around Logan’s waist. 

“Words will go right through him. The fat lip he’ll have for a week, at least.” Logan points out, grinning into Virgil’s neck as he pulls away from the door, holding onto Virgil’s thighs tightly in order to carry him to the bedroom, playfully dropping him onto the bed and staring down at him, glasses mildly askew and eyes dark. “You handled yourself well.” Virgil flushes under the intense gaze and the praise slipping from Logan’s very red and well kissed mouth.

“Yeah well, you know...he was pissing me off and you were taking too long reaming him a new one and looking so damn hot while doing it.” He admits, leaning back on his elbows in a way that he hopes comes across as coy and seductive, but probably doesn’t hide the small tremble in his core- of anxiety or excitement, even Virgil would never know. 

Raising an eyebrow, Logan smirks. “Oh? Did you like hearing me speak, then? Did you like hearing me say such biting things?” He teases, voice low, undoing his own tie and taking off his polo, folding both and setting them aside, never taking his eyes off of Virgil. “Take off your shirt for me?” He requests, giving Virgil an out, but only spurring the other man to slowly and carefully rid himself of his hoodie and t-shirt, abdomen dipping at the heated look Logan gives him, squirming under his observing eyes. He isn’t used to this yet- a look of longing directed at his chest, instead of disdain; the reverent press of a thumb under where the swell used to be, replaced by two pink parentheses on their backs where a keyhole incision just wasn’t an option. 

“Stop...stop staring.” Virgil whispers softly, a deep flush on his cheeks as he avoids Logan’s gaze, hiding away from the blatant worship in his boyfriend’s eyes. 

“Sorry, love. I will. You’re just so beautiful.” Logan murmurs, tearing his eyes away from Virgil’s scars to meet his eyes. “We can stop now, if you want.” 

Virgil shakes his head, resting his own previously useless hands on Logan’s hips, admiring the lack of a curve and the sharp bones under his skin. “No. Keep going. I’m...interested in seeing where this goes.” He flirts shyly, giving Logan a small smirk, his boyfriend’s lips twitching into a soft grin. 

“As you wish.”

Meticulously taking off his glasses, Logan dips his head down to capture Virgil’s lips in a kiss that had small, mewling noises escaping Virgil’s throat around the flow of heat making its way down to his abdomen to curl and coil within his stomach. The wet press of Logan’s tongue in his mouth makes way for the roll of Virgil’s hips, the clinging of fingers to belt loops and the press of naked skin against naked skin. Dazed from the kiss once it was broken, Virgil barely registers Logan setting his glasses aside, before his boyfriend is pressing wet kisses down the slope of his neck, sucking over the slight marks he had made earlier, as if he could deepen the claim he has already cast upon Virgil the first night they had ever held one another like this. 

“What do you want, Virgil?” Logan whispers, his voice a honey deep lull against Virgil’s pulse, his hands curving along the hourglass dips of Virgil’s sides. “Want me to kiss my way down? Mouth pleasure into the pigmented projections on your chest and trace your scars with my tongue?” He all but breathes, pausing his mouth’s journey at Virgil’s collarbones, waiting for an answer, one that Virgil gives with a huff of a laugh and a quiet whine. 

Waxing worship down Virgil’s body, Logan’s hands strokes along the bare skin of Virgil’s thighs, fingertips pressing under the hem of the fabric that had technically started this, not going any further than a tease under it. “Do you know what you in this skirt has been doing to me all day?” He growls playfully, nipping at the dip in Virgil’s stomach, smiling as it trembled under his lips. “The moment you came out in it this morning I was so irrevocably proud, I very nearly suggested we stay home so I could slide my hands under it and touch you.” 

And maybe Virgil remembers a little of how a hoop of fabric and a well deserved punch in the face could end with them like this. How seeing someone you love start to bloom and reveal themselves little by little can cause a spur of love so strong that it lights a need to press worship and praise to the paint in the glass until the colours come through. Spreading his legs, Virgil leans happily into Logan’s touch, hiding the sappy, love-sick grin on his lips with his hand as he nods his consent. Abidingly, Logan slides his hands up Virgil’s skirt, watching his every reaction as he presses his thumb along the damp crease between Virgil’s thighs, over the cloth of his briefs, punching a quiet, breathy sigh from Virgil’s lips. 

“Do you enjoy this?” Logan asks, rubbing his thumb in slow circles, trailing his fingers over to the slight bulge of Virgil’s growth under the cotton. “Imagine it without your undergarments. Imagine feeling my skin where you’re most sensitive. Would you want that?” 

Virgil nods, lifting his hips willingly as Logan removes his briefs, leaving the skirt over his bare thighs, smiling fondly at the slow, efficient way Logan unties his boots and takes them off. Tugging Logan’s tie, Virgil pulls Logan back to him and kisses him, breathless and needy, moaning his name into Logan’s mouth as his boyfriend wraps thin fingers around his three inches, stroking softly, thumb flicking over it every now and then. “Is this pleasing to you, Virgil?” He encourages, teasing his fingers between Virgil’s folds. “Would you like more?” 

And, even through the cloudy haze that is his arousal, Virgil knows what Logan is doing. The words drenched in honey that curls along Logan’s tongue are his reassurance, the gateway intercom before asking for entrance, with the promise that it’d be okay if Virgil says no, that his house is not a home he feels comfortable living in at the moment. A way to navigate Virgil’s map without the risk of making him give directions that might overwhelm him. Though it doesn’t make him any less embarrassed, even if it is in a good way.

“Lo...” Virgil whines, lifting his hips to grind up into Logan’s hand. “You don’t have to ask.” 

“I thought you rather enjoy hearing me speak.” Logan teased with a small, amused chuckle, leaning down to kiss a small mark over the pounding of Virgil’s heart, trailing his kiss to the arched scar under his nipple. “And yes...I do.” 

As embarrassing as it is, Virgil appreciates the care, the love that Logan pours onto him, touching him gently despite the urgency from before, making him feel wanted and loved and validated. “Yes I...I want more. Just keep touching me, damnit.” He sighs, sliding his fingers lovingly through Logan’s hair. 

“Where do you want me to touch, Virgil?” 

“Logan!” Virgil whines, but under the intense gaze Logan gives him, he sighs and gives in. “Everywhere but...inside. Not today.” 

Logan smiles, pressing a reverent kiss to Virgil’s stomach. “As you wish.” He murmurs, stroking Virgil’s growth as he mouths his way down, twisting his hand gently to create a new sensation that has Virgil arching off of the bed with a whimper, tightening his fingers in Logan’s hair. He’s more sensitive than usual, which is saying something considering he’s pretty much always sensitive down there these days. Moving his fingers to rub along Virgil’s slit, Logan wraps his lips around Virgil’s small length and sucks, pulling a loud, gasping moan from Virgil’s mouth. 

“Lo...Logan. Please...M...M’close.” He whines, rocking his hips slowly, following the circles Logan makes with his fingers and the hot, wet heat of his mouth. It takes one more suck and a hard press of his thumb before Virgil shatters, reaching his climax with a gasp of Logan’s name on his lips. 

Smiling in satisfaction, Logan rests his head on his boyfriend’s stomach, waiting for him to calm down after his little death, easing his own heart and arousal to just bask in the glow and colours around him. Every time they do this, every time Virgil does something new or lets himself out of the cage of his mind, Logan can feel Virgil bloom a little more, and he can feel himself falling for him again and again. Sighing at the combing of Virgil’s fingers through his hair, Logan shifts up a little until his head is resting on Virgil’s chest, listening to the pitter-patter of his heart rate steady once more. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah...” Virgil nods, his voice breathless and a little rough. “Sensitive...but relaxed. For once.” He replies with a laugh, carding his fingers through Logan’s hair with a soft sigh. There’s a few moments of silence, in which both men spend contentedly, before Virgil speaks up. 

“Was it true? What you said about the skirt?” 

Logan looks up at Virgil with a contemplative expression, leaning up onto his forearms to look down at him instead. “If you are referring to the fact that I enjoyed and was...affected by your change in attire, then yes, what I said was not a falsehood. It pleased me greatly to see you trying something new and opening up to expressing yourself more.” Logan confesses, trailing lithe fingers along Virgil’s side, down to the hem of his probably now ruined skirt. “And then of course, seeing you defending yourself was...also a very rousing situation. Was that a satisfactory answer?” 

Virgil just gapes at Logan for a few moments. The idea that someone else can seek joy in him discovering himself and expressing himself and opening up, is still a foreign concept- being able to make other people happy itself used to be something Virgil never saw himself to be good at. To be able to instill that kind of reaction in Logan- rational, self-contained- of all people...Virgil supposes that maybe, just maybe, Logan has his own kind of painted glass that can be shattered. 

“I’ll show you a satisfactory answer.” Virgil remarks, pushing at Logan until their positions are flipped, straddling Logan’s hips with a shy smirk at the corner of his lips. “Your turn.” 

He intends to break the glass completely.

To see the colours underneath.


End file.
